


Blood & Perfume

by helvonasche, madamelibrarian



Series: Blood & Perfume [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvonasche/pseuds/helvonasche, https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamelibrarian/pseuds/madamelibrarian
Summary: The beginning of a monster. There will be no fluff, no domesticity, no happy endings. Enjoy!





	1. This Is The Last Time

 

__

_This is the last time_ , Percival thought as he rushed around the cabin grabbing what he needed as the howling grew louder. The girls’ bags had been packed and hidden for weeks, but his work needed to be out, otherwise Amethyst would have known he was planning something; even if he had only the vaguest idea of how he would survive with two seven year old girls outside of the compound. After years of tolerating Amethyst’s zealot behavior, Percival had had enough and the pack of werewolves couldn’t have chosen a better night to attack.

Chucking the three bags out of their cabin’s back window, Percival listened for any sign that a wolf may have gotten his scent. Hearing nothing, he bolted for the front door of the cabin toward the center of camp, his only thought: grabbing his twin daughters, Spring and Autumn. _Stupid names_ , he thought for a moment when he saw them and his heart plummeted. Their mother, his wife, Amethyst was clutching her children close to her side as the werewolves began to circle the outside of the main building.

His luck seemed to turn when one of the elders ordered all children to a secure cabin nearby as they fought to ward the camp against the onslaught. As Spring and Autumn were trying to get out of their mother’s grip, their eyes meeting their father’s for a moment, and they knew. A quick nod from Percival and the girls were filled with excitement; it was time. Sporadically over the last few months, Percival had brought up leaving the camp and the twins responded enthusiastically; they helped with packing as well as keeping their secret from their mother.

Within a few minutes, Percival and his daughters were running through the woods, away from camp with their bags over their shoulders. The thundering footfalls behind them was all the warning they got before a deafening blast from a shotgun took out the werewolf that had been chasing them.

Percival held his two girls close behind him as a man dropped the barrel of the shotgun to his side and approached them, “Your camp’s back that way.”

“Please,” Percival pleaded as he tried to make the seven year-old girls as small as possible, in an attempt to shield them, hoping the man hadn’t noticed them, “We- I can’t go back there, I have to get out.”

The gruff man looked in the direction of the camp and heard the trailing howl of a werewolf. “Just the three of you?” he asked as he glanced at the two little girls peeking out from behind the disheveled man, who had to be their father.

Gripping their shoulders, Percival felt tears burning his eyes as he said, “Yes, j-just the three of us.”

Taking aim just behind the trio, the man lined up his shot before he shouted, “Get down!”

Percival pushed the girls down as he ducked and another shot was fired, followed by the tremulous thud of a second beast hitting the ground. Looking up at the man with the shotgun, Percival couldn’t think as he clutched his girls close and panic coursed through his veins.

Keeping an eye on the surrounding woods, the hunter dropped the barrel again and pointed behind him, “The Impala,” he ordered as he tossed the keys to the man on the ground, “Get in, lock the doors, and wait for me.”

Percival nodded as he stood, taking a tiny hand in each of his and running toward the edge of the woods. Hunters had been frequenting the area because of the werewolves, but Percival had yet to meet one properly. The elders had always dealt with them in the past and seemed dismissive of their crude, brutish manner. This was something Percival disagreed with. He had been raised learning his trade, which had been his father’s. However, Percival’s mother had come from a long line of hunters, and had passed on as much as she could to her only son.

When they reached the dirt road, which seemed closer than Percival had thought, he saw the sleek, black muscle car and almost felt safe, something he hadn’t experienced in years. Cautiously keeping an eye on their surroundings, Percival unlocked the car and helped the girls into the backseat with him. Throwing a blanket over the two girls, he crouched down and waited for the hunter to return.

* * *

Once the wolves were in check, the hunter nodded to his partner before walking back to his car. He had helped out a few months ago during the last werewolf attack, but had no patience for the laid-back, free-loving hippies that called this camp in the middle of the Appalachians home. Aside from his need to get out of the woods as quickly as possible and back to his own kids, the man knew he had to deal with the three people currently residing in the backseat of his car without raising any suspicion from the other hunters.

Leaving the elders of the camp to clean up the werewolves, a part of their agreement, he trudged his way back to the car. Opening the trunk, he packed away the shotgun and exchanged it for a handgun that he tucked into the waistband of his jeans before slamming the trunk shut. Just because he allowed this stranger and his girls to come with him didn’t mean that he had to trust them. As he always told his boys, trust no one and keep your gun loaded.

The man looked through the back window, he had to admire the way the girls were handling the situation. They looked to be younger than his own kids but neither one of them were crying hysterically like the few children he’d seen back at the camp. Either this man from the woods had taught his girls to be calm in the face of danger or there was something wrong with them; regardless, after he dropped them off they weren’t his problem anymore.

Sliding into the front seat, he started the Impala and couldn’t help the little tilt of a smile at the sound of the engine rumbling to life. “Hope you guys like Zeppelin,” the hunter said as he turned in his seat to face the other man, “Why don’t you come up here, let those girls get some sleep so we can talk.” He turned on the radio and pushed in the tape, the base line of Kashmir drowning out the possibility of the two small girls overhearing their conversation.

Percival exchanged a knowing look with his daughters before he got out and walked around the car to the passenger side. Buckling his seatbelt, he turned to the hunter and held out his hand, “Percival Forester, and my daughters, Autumn and Spring.”

“John Winchester. Where you headin’?” John asked as put the car in gear.

Turning to glance back at his girls as they started to drive, Percival sighed, “Anywhere but here.”

* * *

The car came to a stop in front of a room at the furthest end of the motel. John looked around before he turned the key and the engine went silent, “Here we are. The rooms are old but they’re clean,” he explained as he got out of the car to gather his things from the trunk.

Facing his girls, Percival gently reached out and shook Spring’s shoulder, her strawberry blonde hair falling across her face as he cooed, “Springy, time to get up, love.”

The girls sat up slowly, rubbing their eyes and looking around for a moment before they remembered almost at the same time; they were on the run. Both sets of pale blue-green eyes locked on their father’s, whenever this happened Percival was strongly reminded that they were so different but they both had his eyes. Autumn was the first to speak, her small voice certain as she asked, “Grab the bags?”

“I’ll get yours, Daddy,” Spring offered helpfully as she tried to open the heavy back door.

Percival got out of the Impala as he watched John walk his girls into the shabby motel, only catching a glimpse of the two boys inside. John had explained that his sons, Sam and Dean, would be able to watch his girls for a while so they could sort out a few things. The way he had spoken about Dean made the sight of the two boys confusing for a moment. John had said Dean was thirteen and Sammy was nine, but they appeared to be much younger.

Shaking his head as he walked around the car and waited for John to return, Percival wondered when the commune would notice their absence. He hoped they thought the wolves had gotten them, but he feared that they would already be searching for them. People had left before, but it wasn’t like this; late at night, running off with little to nothing during a werewolf attack. Percival knew what he had done, he had fled. Taken his girls and fled into the night without a care to what the others would think.

“Your girls will be safe for now,” John interrupted Percival’s thoughts as he came back to the car, “They’ve got rooms here if you want to rest up. I know what it’s like to travel with two tired kids this late at night. Might give you a chance to figure out your next move.”

Percival said, “We can’t stay long, they’ll be looking for us.”

Shrugging, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pad of paper and started writing, “Your choice of course. No clue why the wolves were at your camp or why you’re runnin’, but they shouldn’t be coming back.”

“They’ve been coming for a while,” Percival sighed, running a hand over his face as the adrenaline started to wain and exhaustion set in, “If I would have been cleverer, I would have planned this better. Thank you, John. You have no idea how much you’ve helped us.”

“Don’t mention it,” John said as he finished writing his note and tucked the pen back into his pocket.

Leaning against the car, Percival chuckled. He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Are you- I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but I can’t help it. Are you a hunter?”

“Yeah,” John said with a nod, “Me and my boys.”

Curious now, Percival continued, “You taught them? What about school, socializing, being kids?” When he saw John’s face sink, Percival had to clarify, “My daughters, they’re… I can’t tell you much. Do you understand? I can’t be flippant about what I do or what my daughters _can_ do. But I need to know that taking them away isn’t selfish.”

“That you’re doing _good_?” John asked.

Relief flooded Percival, he couldn’t believe that a hunter, this man he had known for only a brief time, understood more than the elders of the commune, and understood so quickly. “Yes,” Percival muttered, his voice growing stronger with each word, “I couldn’t keep them there and continue our work.”

John considered what the man was telling him and nodded slowly, “I can understand that. But I gotta ask you something and I’m deadly serious when I say I want a straight answer from you. Are you wit-”

“No!” Percival shouted. The last thing he needed was to be misidentified, again. That’s how he ended up with Amethyst in the first place. The commune’s brand of worship resembled what Percival did, but it wasn’t the same. He had thought he was finally with people who would understand, until it was too late and he was, for all intents and purposes, trapped until about an hour ago.

Thinking fast to not alarm the hunter, Percival tried to explain. “We don’t mess with demons or anything like that. I’m…” he trailed off as he tried to read the hunter, to see if he could confide in him, and realized it didn’t matter any more, “I’m an alchemist.”

“So... mad scientist type,” John said as he made a mental note to keep an eye out for this guy in the future. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for was letting some half cocked Dr. Frankenstein loose into the world. Eyeing Percival, John figured that a scrawny guy like this had the potential to get into all sorts of trouble, the quiet ones usually did, “You got a way to get out of this town? Money?”

“Not sure how much you know about what I do, but money isn’t a problem,” Percival replied. It dawned on him that the money he did have wouldn’t get him far and he’d need more sooner than he had planned; gas alone would tap him out after a day or two, now that he really thought about it. Looking away from John, what little pride Percival had left was at war with his desperate need to keep his girls safe, in a defeated voice, he continued, “But leaving this town, hell, leaving this parking lot is not something I thought of. I really didn’t plan this out.”

“Alright. I can work on transportation for you. In the meantime,” John tore the slip of paper off the pad and held it out to Percival, “Call either of these numbers if the you have any more trouble with… hell, anything to do with monsters. Someone’ll come.”

Taking the piece of paper and looking at it intently, Percival squared his shoulders and asked, “What if, John, what if I needed _supplies_?”

* * *

The feeling of another man’s hand on her back was repulsive. Even though her father seemed to trust him, Autumn didn’t have that in her. The elders, during their lessons, were always touching them. Never anything that could be considered inappropriate, but it still gave Autumn the creeps whenever a man who wasn’t her father touched her, even in a friendly way like the hunter. Holding her sister’s hand, Autumn walked into the small motel room toward the two boys. Sizing them up, Autumn tried to stop her sister from talking, but there was no use.

Spring’s eyes lit up at seeing someone closer to her age. Her dad had explained that where they were going there wouldn’t be anyone to play with other than Autumn. In fact there wouldn’t be many people at all, so she was excited to see that wasn’t happening right away. “Hi,” she said brightly, “I’m Spring.”

Dean’s face crinkled up almost on reflex at the girl’s chirpy nature and name. _Who in the world was named after a season_ , “Spring?! What the hell kinda name is Spring?”

Stepping in front of her sister and glaring at the boy, Autumn said in as menacing a voice as she could muster, repeating a line from a book her father had read, “You really don’t want to mock us.”

Sam tipped his head in confusion before seeing the look on Dean’s face. He knew Dean wouldn’t do anything, but he didn’t need to witness a shouting match between them or deal with the aftermath of their fathers coming back into a row. John had said so little to them when he brought these girls in then turned and left again, Sam had barely time to process before the conversation had turned. Taking a cautious step forward, Sam said, “Ignore him, I’m Sammy, and that is my big brother Dean.”

“Hi, this is my little sister Autumn but she thinks she’s bigger even though I was born eight minutes before her. She was too slow coming out of Mama.”

“By eight minutes, and quit telling them about us,” Autumn hissed as she nudged her sister a bit harder than necessary, “Father said-

“ _Daddy_ didn’t say we couldn’t talk to kids. Just grown-ups,” Spring argued with a roll of her eyes.

Trying as best he could, Sam said, “It’s okay, we could watch some TV or play-”

“How about you all stop talking,” Dean grumbled as he flopped down on one of the beds and pulled out a comic book, “Bad enough when Sammy won’t shut up about kid stuff and now I got two more buggin’ me.”

Narrowing her eyes at Dean, Autumn turned to Spring, “C’mon, we need to rest.”

“But I just slept,” Spring whined.

Sam walked closer to the girls, “I can make you something to eat. Dean’s been showing me how to cook and I can make Ramen, cereal, oatmeal.”

“Don’t you give them the last of my Lucky Charms,” Dean warned with a scowl at Sam.

“What’s a… Lucky Charm? You shouldn’t eat those,” Spring said, worried that the boys were eating magic charms that could cause them serious harm.

With a quick scan of the room, Sam pointed to the red and green box on the counter, as he explained, “No, it’s cereal.”

Eyeing the boy carefully, Autumn forced a smile, “No thank you, we had supper already.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. Dad had said they were seven, and the blonde seemed like his age but the other one, Autumn, seemed more like Dean; rude. He racked his mind for something, when the door opened again.

John and Percival walked in, and John announced to the room, “Say goodbye boys, our guests are heading out.”

Spring turned and grabbed her’s and her father’s bags, Autumn close behind as their father ushered them out. With a final glance behind her, before the door closed, she made direct eye contact with Sam who gave her a small wave. Unable to stop herself, she returned it, thinking she’d never see him again.

* * *

 

Pacing the small room, Percival waited for the girls to get into their bed before leaving them. He didn't need to go far, but he wanted to avoid Spring and Autumn overhearing the potentially awkward conversation. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, Percival eyed it, still unsure if he should take the hunter's advice or try to make his own way. Only a few days after their chance encounter, and he couldn't take his mind off the scrap of paper with two phone numbers.

He knew the first one belonged to John, but the second was for someone named Bobby. In their brief conversation, John had explained that _this_ Bobby should be able to get him anything he needed, and what Percival needed was cash. Approaching the phone booth, Percival turned his back to their motel room before ducking in, fumbling with the coins and dialing the number.

“Singer Salvage Yard, Bobby speaking,” a gruff voice came over the line, sounding impatient.

Percival’s hands fidgeted with the paper as his mouth went dry, “Hello, yes, my name is Percival Forester and I was given your number by John Winchester, he told me to call if I needed anything.” The heavy silence from the other end was worrisome, Percival began to wonder if he’d called the wrong number or if John had set him up, but his worries were ignored when he heard Bobby clear his throat.

Bobby asked, saying each word carefully as he thought, “Hello Percival Forester, how can I help you?” Although he had been doing this for a while, Bobby was still suspicious of anyone he didn’t know. His mind began to race trying to place the rather unique name while the other man spoke.

Absently gazing out the grimy windows of the phone booth, Percival explained, “I’m looking for a way to exchange items for cash, John said you could help.” The end of his sentence sounding almost like a question, he was kicking himself for not being more assertive; how were he and his girls supposed to survive in the real world if he could barely ask for what he needed.

“Try a pawn shop,” Bobby said, wondering why in hell John would give his number to a rube who didn’t think to use a pawnshop when there was one in practically every town, “Now if you got scrap or an old car you want to unload, I might be able to help.”

“You don’t understand,” Percival said quickly, he had to take another leap of faith and trust another stranger, “It’s gold and not gold that I can pawn.”

Bobby sighed, scratching his head under his ballcap, “Listen, I don’t get involved in illegal trafficking of kugerans or Nazi spoils of war. So-”

“It’s not Nazi gold!” Percival shouted into the receiver, slapping his hand on his forehead as he realized he had to tell this man more than he was comfortable with, “I’m an alchemist.” As he waited for the man to respond, Percival added, “It’s real gold, it just- it’s difficult to sell because it’s too pure. John said you could help.”

“Let me call you back. What number can I reach you at?” Bobby asked pulling out a pen and pad of paper. He needed to talk to John about this. Alchemists were rare and the ones Bobby had heard about were things of legend and not the kind of people to get mixed up with. After he wrote down the number, Percival hung up and Bobby was dialing John, hoping that he’d catch the hunter at the motel Dean had called from.

“Yeah?” John asked, his voice rough from sleep.

Not bothering with pleasantries Bobby opened up with the most pressing question on his mind, “What in hell are you thinkin’ giving my number out to a goddamned alchemist, ya jackass? Do you read anything I give ya or only the cliff notes?”

Sitting up quicker than he should have, John searched the motel room for his boys, finding them both asleep in the bed next to his. Talking low so Sam and Dean would stay asleep, John asked, “He called you? Damn, he must be hard up.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think you heard me. I have an alchemist calling me and asking to be his personal pawn shop. Doesn’t that sound a bit off to you?”

“He’s on the run, Bobby. Two little girls with him and didn’t seem to have a plan. He was with that hippy group in the Appalachians,” John explained, he didn’t see what the problem was. Yes, the few things he had read about alchemists were concerning, but Percival wasn’t some dark warlock. He was a man with a trade and two little girls to care for, without giving it much thought, John empathised deeply with the man, “Percy needs your help, hell he needs any help he can get. I don’t think they’ve lived outside of that camp in God knows how long.”

Bobby flopped down in his chair and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He hated it when kids were involved. Innocents had no place dealing with the supernatural forces out in the world and John knew it was one of the few soft spots that Bobby had left. “Balls!,” he hissed, “Fine. But so help me, if he goes off the reservation I’ll take it out of your hide.” Bobby didn’t wait for a response and slammed the receiver.

Still waiting in the phone booth, Percival tried to calm himself before going back to the motel. He didn’t know when Bobby would be calling back or if they’d even be here when he did, but Percival wasn’t about to give up. Deciding that calling Bobby back in the morning would be best, he pushed open the door and stopped dead when the phone started to ring. Lifting the receiver, he asked uncertainly, “Hello?”


	2. Magnum Opus

Percival remembered standing in that phone booth for over an hour as he made plans with Bobby. The first of many lengthy conversations the two had, and after a few months, they became comfortable with each other. Because of the distance, Percival’s first gold exchange happened with one of Bobby’s friends out East. By the time Percival and the girls had made it to South Dakota and were able to meet Bobby in person, it was like seeing an old friend again.

Percival had made a point of being completely honest with Bobby, and had explained more than he ever thought he’d tell anyone but his daughters. To finish his work and to keep them all safe, he needed more help than he had initially thought.

Percival had wondered periodically over the years what would have happened had John not found them in the woods that night, but those thoughts were dismissed almost as soon as they popped up. The past didn’t matter. The three settled in the woods outside Whitefish, Montana, and kept to themselves.

As the years passed, Bobby began to notice that Percival was aging, dramatically. When they met he seemed to be no older than John Winchester, but after just four years, Percival looked like he was in his late fifties; grey hair, a heavily lined face, etc. After another eight years, Bobby was genuinely concerned. Percival looked not only older than Bobby at that point, but well into his golden years. Bobby knew what this meant, but couldn’t find the heart to bring it up until Percival asked for something that was nearly impossible to get; a live Ghost Orchid. During his last visit, he finally broke down and asked, “What the hell are you working on?”

“You don’t want to know, Robert,” Percival said darkly, setting his cup of coffee down.

Leaning forward as Autumn walked into the kitchen, Bobby hissed, “Like hell I don’t, and what on earth do ya need a live Ghost Orchid for?”

Percival sat back in his chair as his now nineteen year old daughter smiled at him before going back outside. He thought to when they had found the abandoned cabin over a decade ago. All three of them working hard to make it a home as well as a workshop. Once they had started properly helping him, understanding what he was trying to accomplish and assisting him more than he ever thought possible, Percival didn’t think he’d ever been happier.

Looking up at his friend, Percival knew that Bobby would have to know everything. Percival had felt it coming and the realization that his time was almost up made his chest ache, but he was focused. The only thing that mattered, that had ever really mattered to him were his daughters, and he knew that if anyone could care for them and teach them when he was gone was the man glaring daggers at him across the table.

“You have to listen, Robert,” Percival began, pleased at the expression of surprise on Bobby’s face, “I am only going to explain this once and you need to swear that you _can_ do what I ask of you.”

Bobby’s mind raced at what Percival was building up to, but quickly agreed. As he listened, Bobby tried to figure out why Percival was being so grave while explaining when he slammed his hand on the table, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Don’t interrupt,” Percival said sharply, his eyes cutting through Bobby as he repeated himself, “I have spent my life trying to create the philosopher’s stone, and I am about to succeed. What I am asking is will you take Autumn and Spring with you when this is over. They aren’t ready to be on their own.”

Dropping his shoulders, Bobby realized that Percival was not only planning on doing hands down the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, but was asking him to take care of his daughters should his asinine plan work. After a few moments and Percival remaining silent but wary, Bobby asked, “Do the girls know?”

Chuckling, Percival nodded as he said, “Of course, I wouldn’t be able to do it without them.”

* * *

A year almost to the day, and Autumn was reading over her notes one last time before they began. She was conflicted, filled with dread, sadness, and elation. Never doubting her father, Autumn set to work revising her notes while they all waited for Bobby to arrive.

“I’ve cleared outside,” Spring said as she came in looking worn down from working in the heat of the day. Pouring a glass of water, she leaned against the counter and watched Autumn read.

Percival muttered something as he read for another moment, then stood, “One last thing before Mr. Singer arrives.” Taking cautious steps, his hips not what they used to be, Percival reached for a box that he had been hiding since the girls were infants. Gesturing for them to come close, he opened it and pulled out three ornate, silver daggers. “One for each of us,” he said quietly.

As Autumn reached out to grab one of the knives, she heard the telltale sound of tires on gravel; Bobby had arrived. The tension in her stomach seemed to double, but she would never disappoint her father by having a breakdown, not now, not ever. Autumn knew Spring had been struggling with what they were about to do, if she broke down now they might not be able to do it again. Getting the Ghost Orchid had taken months, and her father might not live long enough for another one to be found. Squaring her shoulders, Autumn gripped the handle of her dagger and met her father’s eyes as she waited for Spring to take hers.

Biting her bottom lip to try and keep herself together, Spring took the present from from her father and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Whispering briefly in his ear, she turned toward her sister with watery eyes and brushed past her on her way to the door, “I’ll get Mr. Singer.”

Autumn watched closely as her father turned and set his blade on his work table with the rest of his equipment. The sound of the door slamming shut as Spring walked out into the yard jolted Autumn out of her head and into action. Grabbing her notebooks and packing them away, she rummaged through a cupboard and pulled out four small containers. As she mixed the ingredients that her and Spring would need for their part of the Magnum Opus.

There was no solid true method for creating a philosopher’s stone, no guidelines, recipes, or rules. Most alchemists that even got close to it were secretive and hid their research, and the three Foresters were no different. Percival may have opened up to Bobby, but he never shared his research with anyone other than his daughters. Regardless of how an alchemist made a stone, the process was referred to as a Magnum Opus.

After decades of research and tireless effort, Percival was on the cusp of creating the impossible. His hands shook as he got his work station ready, hearing Bobby and Spring just outside the door, he almost lost it. Looking out the window just above his desk, he could make out part of the circle the girls had dug earlier and he reminded himself that making the stone wasn’t about him; it wasn’t for him.

Percival had begun his research as a teenager, trying to find something to fill the time when he first read about the philosopher’s stone, and not long after it became his obsession. For years he searched, but when Amethyst seduced him away from his work, he found a new purpose. He had been close before he married her, but when his daughters were born, that’s when his passion was renewed. As they grew he noticed how both girls showed their strengths in alchemy and even witchcraft, clever little things that he’d encouraged. Not long after their third birthday, Percival decided that creating a stone would carry a heavy cost. Thinking of Spring and Autumn, their potential, drove him to the point he was at now. The stone was never for him, all this work, his life; it was for his girls.

Shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand, Percival turned to greet his friend, “Robert, do you have it?”

“Yeah, I have it,” Bobby said as he set the box he’d been carrying down on the table, “Did you know you can get sent on a long ass vacation at a Federal Pen for this little flower?”

Rushing, as much as he could, Percival grabbed the box and brought it to his desk, “I paid you well in case that happened, but the Robert Singer I know doesn’t _get_ caught.” As Percival took the Ghost Orchid out of the box and set it in the center of his desk, he said over his shoulder, “You can stay,” turning again to face Bobby, “Should be quite the show.”

“I bet it is,” Bobby said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Waiting for sunset or the full moon?”

Smiling, Percival said, “Waiting for you.” Facing his desk, Percival’s shoulders dropped as he asked, “Girls, are we ready?” He couldn’t bring himself to look at them. He wanted to remember breakfast that morning, it had been so normal, easy, despite that they all knew that that was their last breakfast together. He held onto the moment as he waited for them to reply.

Spring nodded solemnly as her fingers tightened around the handle of her blade, her voice just above a whisper when she finally answered him, “Yes, Father.” She didn’t really want to let him go but she knew this was important to him, to all of them. If she thought it would change anyone’s mind about finishing this work she’d beg and plead for them to stop this and live their lives normally, but they were too close now.

She and Autumn had tried that once, but he had explained in no uncertain terms that this was a necessity otherwise the lifeforce he’d already sacrificed would have all been in vain. It was a hard truth for a twelve year old to swallow and the years since had eased the decision for the twins. This was the culmination of their collective knowledge and Spring carried a sense of pride that she was capable, but it didn’t mean she had to rejoice at was about to come.  

Autumn glanced at Bobby before walking toward Spring and handing her a small container, “I’m ready.”

With a heavy sigh, Percival turned to see Spring and Autumn standing at the door. He gave them a quick, weak smile and watched them walk out the door for the last time. Crossing the room to the window above his desk, Percival looked on as the girls pacing out the boundaries of the protective circle and purified the space. Waiting until his daughters were done walking the circle and ready to begin, Percival said in a grave tone, “Robert, no matter what happens, do _not_ try to stop what we are doing. You will be safe in the cabin.”

Approaching Spring as they walked around the cabin, Autumn held out her hand and caught Spring’s, their fingers lacing together for a moment before they were too far apart. This small gesture was more than enough to keep Spring from breaking into tears and to allow one tear to trail down Autumn’s cheek. She had been strong for all of them, keeping them on task, making runs into town once Percival had become too weak, but it had taken its toll on her. Autumn continued counting her steps until she was facing the opposite direction of Spring, and as her sister was doing, she held out her hands and waited.

Spring took a deep breath, letting it out slowly between her lips as her eyes slid shut. She could feel the power of the earth creeping into her body like cool water from a creek. She loved this feeling, it calmed her and made her feel like she was actually a part of something greater, truly connected to the world around her. She continued on like this for what felt like an eternity and every cell of her being felt like it was vibrating with raw energy. Whispering a small apology to the growing life around her, she threw her arms into the air as if trying to grasp the heavens, and a flash of green light spiralling outward into the forest. The trees around their home bowed away from her.

As the sky began to darken and thunder could be heard in the distance, Percival recited in an unnaturally loud voice, “ **Redire ad somnum**.”

In unison, the three continued, “ **De dolore et alia choice incolumem et veritas, et venenum diaboli**.”

Their words seemed to echo through the cabin and extend through the woods around them, growing louder as the sky blackened and rain began to fall. Bobby stared out the window and noticed that the rain was on the other side of the circle. An uneasy feeling settled in him, like it did when he was on a hunt, but the first streak of lightning above them took him out of his head. Although he knew what they were doing, that he was not in danger, the power that was radiating off of them was intoxicating. He’d never seen anything like this, and Bobby knew that the worst was yet to come.

The Foresters broke their chanting, as Percival began repeating, “ **Sicut ovis corpora computatis, tympana ad modum bellum** ,” both girls said, their voices blending together, “ **Redire ad somnum**.”

Bobby could see both girls, Spring from the window next to him and Autumn from the window above their beds, and when they both dropped to their knees, he focused on Spring. He watched as she slammed her dagger into the ground to the hilt, dragging the blade as if she were cutting into flesh.

She repeated the action again, about two feet to the left of the first, then dropped her dagger. The wounds she had made in the ground beneath her looked more like jagged incisions in flesh than dirt, both new openings raw and opening wide as Spring thrust her arms up to the elbow. She stayed like that for a moment before pulling her arms out and standing with them held out at her side. That’s when Bobby knew what he was seeing was more than just making a forbidden object; the three of them were defying nature.

He could see Spring better at this point, her right arm covered in some dark liquid that he couldn’t make out until a flash of lightning revealed that it was blood. Her left arm was coated in a similar thick liquid, but it wasn’t dark like her right arm. The same flash of lightning made her left arm shine, the blinding liquid gold that was nothing but a flash as the storm outside of the protection circle escalated.

Trees being uprooted, hail crashing around them, lightning and thunder blinding and deafening them. Bobby could clearly see something was not only keeping the storm at bay, but reflecting and even destroying debris from entering. A large branch, plummeting toward Spring’s head, seemed to combust as it hit the border of the circle.

The girls head’s both lifted as they raised their arms out to their sides, and Bobby stared in awe as both began to rise off the ground, stopping with six feet between their dangling legs and the ground below. The storm grew in intensity until a blinding green light, that seemed to originate from Spring, spread not only through the cabin and where the girls were, but extended out into the surrounding woods. Bobby finally gave in to his need for self preservation and covered his head.

With a final, and alarmingly close, ringing blast of thunder, the storm seemed to die down. Bobby lifted his head in time to see Spring settle gently back onto the ground, her arms still covered in blood and gold as she turned and walked toward the cabin. Bobby leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he head been holding and said, “Those girls are something el- Percy? Percy!”

Bobby’s words faltered as he saw Percival slumped over his desk, and he rushed toward him but stopped short as the girls entered the cabin. Bobby tried to explain, “I don’t know wha-”

Autumn held up her bloodied hand, silencing Bobby immediately, “It’s alright Mr. Singer, but you need to leave now.”

His eyes darting between the girls and the distinct scent of burning flesh filling his nose, Bobby asked, “Leave?”

Spring went to her father’s side, allowing the tears to slip down her face as she brushed the tips of her bloody fingers along his cheek. It felt as if her heart was tearing itself apart. This was the man who had bounced her on his knee and held her close when she had nightmares and now he was gone. It didn’t seem real. She knew it was coming, knew that when she walked out that door the next time she’d see him, he’d be a corpse. Nothing left but flesh and bone. What she wanted to do was curl up with her sister and cry out her grief, but there was too much to do. They had to lay their father to rest. Something that couldn’t be done with others in the house, even if it was Bobby.

“Yes, we aren’t done yet,” Autumn said, her voice strong and not giving away the excruciating pain she was in. The molten gold that was burning away the flesh of her forearm would eventually fade once they had completed the ritual, but what was actually causing her permanent damage was the sight of her father’s lifeless body. She couldn’t count the number of times she had caught him asleep at his desk in almost the same position, and the urge to tap him on the shoulder, to lead him to his bed, was unbearable. _This is too much_ , she thought as she tried to keep her emotions from taking over. There was too much to do; she could feel this later.

Bobby took a moment to process before he asked, “You know what he asked me. If _this_ happened...”

“We need three days, then we can leave,” Autumn said, her voice calm and certain.

Nodding, Bobby started to speak, but was cut off one last time by Autumn, she didn’t sound cocky or disrespectful, she was filled with determination as she spoke and took another step toward her father, “He explained everything. Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota.” Before Bobby was to the door, Autumn turned to him, her eyes filled with tears that she refused to shed, “Thank you, Mr. Singer.”

Bobby didn’t know how to react, and with a sigh, he walked out the door and back to his truck. The drive home had been grueling but he didn’t stop and made record time, just over fifteen hours. After pouring himself a double shot of whiskey, he collapsed on his bed and started running through the list in his head of what he needed to do to make his house better; to make it a home for the two girls that would soon be joining him.


End file.
